In-between Shards of Broken Glass
by DownRoadsThatNoOneElseGoes
Summary: In which I attempt to write at least 20 drabble things for various OCs I've created over the years


**Bullets**

Mallory didn't really use a gun. She knew how to use one and she did practise hitting moving targets at least once a month but she preferred using the blades of knives to snuff out lives.

Besides, she thought with a smirk on her face as she faced her opponents, why wield a gun when you can kill them with their own bullets?

 **Lesson**

Mallory had been taught many lessons in her somewhat short life, most of them indirectly by her father. So it was somewhat surprising that the most important lesson, at least to her, had been taught by one of the many voices in her head.

Men will always underestimate that which looks weaker than them. Let them.

 **Winter**

Most people would probably associate the season with roaring log fires and pine trees and the scent of peppermint. Most would probably associate it with gifts and family and joy.

Mallory associated winter with shoving an icicle through someone's eyeball and into their brain, with red liquid spilling over white snow and bitterly cold wind against exposed skin.

 **Cruelty**

It came easily to her, being cruel. It probably shouldn't have, considering she was only 15, but normal teenage girls could also be cruel so there was really no difference, at least to her.

Of course, most teenage girls didn't spend their Saturday nights dragging information from the crying mouths of men twice their age, but whatever.

 **Immortality**

Theoretically, there was a way for Mallory to remain alive and kicking ass for centuries. Well, there was a way for her consciousness and memories to live on. Her original body, not so much.

Somehow, she found herself not really minding the idea of one day dying, as long as it wasn't of something boring, like old age.

 **Carnivore**

In a way, that was what she was. She had more than enough blood on her hands to warrant being called a carnivore. But she never thought of herself as such. She had never really paid attention to what people called her. So long as they feared her, nothing else mattered.

 **Saint**

Mallory wasn't religious, never had been and never would be. She didn't believe in the Shinto gods and goddesses, and she most definitely did not believe in God with a capital G. That didn't stop her from rarely thinking that Akirou was a saint to put up with her.

Then she remembered that he was just a voice stuck in her head and therefore had no say in whether or not he wanted to be there.

 **Antagonistic**

Mallory laughed mockingly as she arched her spine to avoid a sword thrust aimed for her stomach. Most people would call it suicidal to be antagonistic towards one of the best swordsmen in the world. No matter what his title was, she knew that didn't automatically make him the best, something he took offence to if the way he reacted was any indication. Again, most people would call it suicidal.

She called it fun.

 **Melodramatic**

The thing about Mallory is that she had lived the majority of her life with a ton of conflicting voices in her head. One had been a fisherman, another had been an army captain. The point is she could use those voices, the memories that came with those voices, to act.

That had the side affect of causing her to become quite melodramatic when she felt like it.

 **Hair**

Her hair was long enough to go past her shoulders, ebony black and smelled like blood and cinnamon on a good day. It was the only bit of femininity she allowed herself on a regular basis.

Akirou would run his fingers through it, making comments that probably weren't acceptable in normal society considering he was clearly in his mid to late twenties whilst she was still a teenager looking like a preteen. That didn't stop him from flirting whilst he braided her hair.

 **Overindulge**

They taste nice. That's why she eats them. Their blood is warm, their flesh is sweet, their tears are sweet, their bones are crunchy and their hearts are chewy.

It had been a moment of necessity that lead her to eating them in the beginning, a moment of 'I refuse to die like this'. She'd been locked in a room with no windows and a door that blended in with the walls. Once every twelve hours, a glass of water and some bread were given to her. Once a day, a new person to kill was pushed into the room.

It had been two weeks since she'd first been shut in the room when she had her first taste of human flesh.

 **Dark**

Mallory, in her own words, had a soul as dark as pitch. She could commit acts that were seen as unspeakable even by mafia standards without even thinking about it, drag information from even the most hardened of men as they screamed and begged for mercy before going silent...and she enjoyed it. She found it amusing to watch them die.

 **Light**

Despite her darkness, Mallory could still at times act innocent. She was incredibly fond of sweet things and could often be seen eating them whilst making sarcastic comments. She was amused by small animals and fond them to be extremely cute.

Mallory wasn't good or light, but sometimes, she acted like it.

 **Fire**

Privately, as she watched the foolish child who was to be king one day walk through fire towards his opponent, she wondered why people decided it was a good to walk through fire.

Yes it was dramatic and she could appreciate the need for drama, but why risk being cooked to a crisp just for effect? Surely it would be wiser to run through the fire or, you know, try to avoid having to go through fire altogether.

 **Weapons**

It had been a bright early morning when two relics of her past came into her weapon shop.

Even without having to look into their minds, she could tell they were surprised to see her, she couldn't really blame them for that. Everyone had thought she had died in that last battle, though no body was ever found. Mallory had never felt the need to make it known she was still alive.

So with a polite smile and a calm gaze, she looked them in the eye.

"What can I do for you, gentleman?"

 **She**

She is the girl who dances through the field's of corpses left in her wake, who laughs with happiness and glee as people die around her, who bathes in blood so often, it sinks into her skin, causing her to always smell faintly of the sweet coppery life that flows through every beings veins.

She is the girl who can fool anyone with her porcelain skin, blue eyes and ebony hair into believing she's delicate, innocent like a child's doll, but you just have to look closely into her eyes, for if you look close enough, they reveal how truly rotten to the core she is.

But she is also the girl who gets exited over candy, who drags people along on her mad and sometimes whimsical adventures, who can still laugh honestly despite all the things she's seen and done, whose smile is beautiful, despite how twisted it can be.

Because she was Mallory and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.  


 **Texts**

A: you okay?

M: this dress is too cumbersome, the makeup itches, I'm wearing stiletto's and I haven't slept in two weeks. Don't fuck with me.

M: the eye candies alright though

A: ... Something must be wrong. You're taking notice of boys.

M: Who said anything about boys?

M: I'm currently in a glaring contest with a blonde. Bit hard to tell really, he's cute though

M: target sighted, wish me luck

A: you don't need it but luck

 **Later**

M: I want red wine, the champagne was terrible

 **Bugs**

In all of his life, William Mcdowell had never felt as much fear as he did at the moment, he was just a hitman, this had just been a simple job, he had been paid by a brown haired man with cold green eyes to kill the assassin known as "Bloody Mary."

The pay was good so he didn't think twice about accepting the job, oh how he cursed his earlier foolishness and greed, what he thought would be a simple in and out job turned out to be anything but, there was a reason Bloody Mary was feared after all.

Panting, he ran through the various corridors of the warehouse he had planned to kill them in but where he was now trapped, trying to escape the monster's twisted, childish voice.

"Ding dong, I know you can hear me, open up the door, I only want to play a little."

There it was! Panicking, his breathing increased to wheezing pants as he frantically looked around for somewhere to hide. He felt a small spark of hope as he saw a door of to the side, maybe they would overlook it? (they won't, his mind muttered but he ignored the voice of doubt), he almost sighed with relief as he sprinted over and opened the door, slipping inside he looked around, no sign of them.

He sighed in relief and turned to close the door, when he turned to face the room again however he froze in horror.

Perched on the side of an old crate sat the girl he'd been tasked with killing, a wide fox-like sadistic grin stretched across her face, revealing sharp, pointy teeth.

He gulped audibly as he stepped forwards, her silvery blue eyes locked with his muddy brown ones and, if it was possible, her grin seemed to stretch wider.

The odd sensation of goose bumps crept up his arms and as he looked down at them, he was both surprised and horrified to see what looked like spiders crawling underneath his flesh. He looked up at the silent girl and realized something, she was going to kill him.

His skin ripped apart like wet paper as dozens, maybe hundreds, of poisonous spiders, black widows, wolf spiders, exploded from underneath, they crawled all over him, biting, injecting him with venom, blood dripped down from the gaping wounds (holes) in his arms.

He only had time for one wordless, terror filled scream as a combination of deadly spider venom, blood loss and pure fear caused his body to drop to the ground without so much as a gurgle.

The young woman stared at the body before beginning to laugh softly, she slowly started to clap as the various spiders dissipated into smoke.

"Well, that takes care of that, checkmate, Father."

 **Hawaii**

Whilst Mallory does generally find it amusing to harass and annoy various people involved with the mafia, even she gets bored of their expected retaliations. Hawaii was just one of the very many places she went to spend time and relax.

Of course, irritating maggots have a tendency of disturbing her peace but c'est la vie. She was very good at making her displeasure known anyway.

 **Revenge**

She's 21 and looking down at a pathetic man with pretty, hateful, disgusting green eyes with an apathy that she didn't think she possessed.

"Devil's Daughter." He spits with venom and anger and hatred, like the words should affect her in some way.

They don't, or they do but not in the way he wanted them to.

She smiles. It's a smile with too many teeth and blood red lips and hate and rage and amusement and satisfaction and bloodlust and it's her, personified in one facial expression.

"I know, Daddy Dearest~" She sings with a tone of sweet poison and cuts out his eyes, the eyes that were so similar and yet so different to her own, before breaking his mind and trapping it in an endless cycle of the demise of the only woman he ever loved, no matter what her stepmother had liked to think.

Mallory's revenge is sweet and intoxicating and wondrously complete.  



End file.
